


It all starts (with the tiniest of touches)

by MalenkayaCherepakha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Auror Partners, Clothed Sex, Community: daily_deviant, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Hogwarts, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalenkayaCherepakha/pseuds/MalenkayaCherepakha
Summary: Sometimes, the smallest touch is all it takes to start something incredible.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 34
Kudos: 288
Collections: Daily Deviant





	It all starts (with the tiniest of touches)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keyflight790](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyflight790/gifts).



Harry’s blood is pumping, his adrenaline spiking and his focus sharpening as he ducks curses and flings hexes back at the suspect. He lives for moments like these, when his world narrows to nothing but the chase and the thrill of bringing in someone he’s been hunting for months. He’s come close on occasions, but he’s never managed to quite replicate the feeling any other way.

This man, a shady potions dealer, is a significantly better dueller than Harry had anticipated, and rivers of sweat are flowing down Harry’s face as he tries to land the final blow and capture him. Harry doesn’t doubt for a second that they’ll get him though, not when Draco is next to him, whirling like a fury as he alternates between offence and defence, his movements in perfect harmony with Harry’s. It’s like a dance they’ve choreographed, both knowing their part and moving seamlessly together, covering each other’s weak spots and boosting their strengths. 

Harry would never have expected it, but they make a good team. 

The suspect is tiring, his curses less powerful, his arm shaking as he points his wand in their direction, and Harry chances a glance over at Draco. Draco looks back, his face pink, his hair plastered to his face with sweat, and nods, ever so slightly. They’ve got him. Swiftly, with years of practice behind them, they advance, Harry sending a barrage of minor hexes towards the cowering suspect in an attempt to distract him as Draco, always more skilled at precision work, waits for the perfect moment before casting the final spells to disarm, silence, and handcuff the suspect. Before Harry has even had time to wipe the sweat off his forehead, their back-up team is running down the alley, throwing a cursory ‘good work’ in Harry and Draco’s direction before disapparating with the suspect in tow, bound for the Ministry’s holding cells. 

In the silence that follows the crack of disapparation, Harry flops back against the brick wall of the alley. He’s soaked through with sweat, his muscles aching and his breathing still rapid as he comes down from the adrenaline of the fight. Normally he’d crash at this point, relying on a strong coffee once back at the office to get through the rest of the day before heading home and falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. The magic takes it out of him, more than others according to Hermione. Something about the strength of his casting. He didn’t really pay attention - if it can’t be changed, he’s not going to worry about it, especially when it’s so helpful in his line of work. He can take a bit of exhaustion in return for more captured criminals. 

Today, though, is different. The crash doesn’t seem to be arriving, his heart rate still just as high, the restless energy in his legs still present. He knows what it is, even if he’s been trying to avoid admitting it to himself. But when Draco comes and leans against the wall with him, close enough that their sleeves brush against each other, Harry can’t deny it. He’s been watching Draco. He’s been doing it all his life, really, but the watching has taken on a different tenor recently. He can’t seem to stop staring at Draco, whether they’re sat working in their office, Draco messing up his hair as he tries to puzzle through a case, or when they’re in the Auror gym, Draco’s tight clothes leaving little to the imagination and making it impossible for Harry to concentrate on his own exercises. And especially during raids, when Draco turns into a force of nature, eyes gleaming as he casts perfect spell after perfect spell, the way they work together making Harry wonder just how compatible they could be in other ways too. 

And now, as they stand alone in the alleyway, the only sound their slowing breathing, Harry can hardly bear it. He can feel the heat pouring off Draco from where they’re stood so close together, nearly touching but not quite, and he suddenly aches with need, more forceful than he’s felt in a long time. It’s like he’s been ignoring it for so long that its suddenly decided that going full force is the only way to get Harry to act on it, and now that he’s even slightly mentally acknowledged it, the urge can’t be held back. 

Despite the enormity of his need, it all starts with the tiniest of touches. Without even really planning it, Harry’s hand twitches, his little finger brushing against Draco’s. Heart thumping, Harry watches as Draco looks down at their hands, still skin to skin, then up at Harry. For a long, agonising moment, they just look at each other, Harry watching closely to try and catch any hint of emotion on Draco’s face, waiting for something - permission? rejection? interest? In the end the answer comes not from Draco’s expression, but from the feeling of Draco’s finger gently stroking the back of Harry’s hand, the touch featherlight but enough to send a burning heat racing through Harry’s veins. 

Before he can stop and think it through, Harry moves, turning so that he faces Draco, bringing a hand up to cup his face as he leans in and kisses him.

He’s wondered before, what it would feel like to kiss Draco, but he never thought it would set off such an intense desire in him. Any thoughts he might have had about taking this slow fly out of his mind immediately, his cock hardening as he slips his tongue into Draco’s mouth. For his part, Draco seems just as into it - his hands are everywhere, burning a trail through Harry’s Auror robes as they explore his body. 

Harry pushes forwards, pressing Draco more firmly into the wall, shifting his hips until his cock finds Draco’s, hot and hard and brilliant against his. The feeling is intoxicating, even through layers of clothing, and all Harry can think is that he wants more. Draco’s hand slips beneath Harry’s outer robe, coming to rest on his bum, gripping and pulling Harry in closer, encouraging the movement of Harry’s hips. They begin an agonising grind, Harry chasing every twitch of Draco’s body, kissing all the while, unwilling to take even the shortest of breaks. Now he knows what it’s like to taste Draco’s lips, he doesn’t ever want it to stop. 

Harry has never hated their robes more than he does right now, as he tries desperately to reach skin, needing to discover if Draco’s skin is as soft as he’s always imagined. Draco tries to help, their fingers tangling together as they both battle with the laces of his trousers, the feel of Draco’s cock underneath Harry’s fingers making him even more uncoordinated than normal. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Draco frees himself, and Harry wastes no time in wrapping his fingers round Draco’s cock, the skin hot and soft under his fingers. Draco moans, his cock twitching in Harry’s hand, and without even thinking Harry drops to his knees, wanting to hear that noise again. 

Harry licks a stripe up Draco’s prick, savouring the taste of him, before licking around the head, revelling in the groan that escapes Draco. With just the tip of his tongue, Harry teases Draco, his hand loose around the base of Draco’s cock, his own prick throbbing in the confines of his trousers as he explores every inch of Draco’s cock. 

‘Harry,’ Draco pants after long minutes of this. ‘ _Please_ ’. 

Harry’s never heard Draco sound like that before, and the need in his voice sends such a heady rush of lust through Harry that he thinks he could come, there and then, completely untouched. Harry decides he’s teased Draco enough, at least for now, and takes him into his mouth fully, tongue swirling as he begins to move up and down, his hand moving in time with his mouth. Draco’s hand sliding into his hair, tugging ever so slightly, has Harry moaning around Draco’s dick and reaching down to undo his own trousers, desperately needing to touch himself. 

With his cock free, Harry starts to gently stroke himself, keeping his touch light so he doesn’t run the risk of coming, but still enough to relieve a bit of the need that’s driving him mad. He keeps sucking Draco off, savouring the way that Draco’s thighs are starting to shake under Harry’s hands, greedily devouring every sign that Draco is starting to fall apart above him. Draco’s hand is clenching and releasing in Harry’s hair, his other fingers scrambling for purchase on the brick wall behind him. Harry’s knees are starting to protest at the hard ground underneath but he can’t bring himself to care, not when Draco is making those sounds. 

In the end it’s Draco who makes Harry stop, pushing him off with a shaky, breathless plea for _more_. Draco is the one who turns, shoving his trousers down with a distinctly un-Malfoyish lack of grace, wandlessly casting prep spells as Harry races to stand up, taken aback by the speed of Draco’s actions and the fact that he wants this at all. In fact, that’s all Harry can think as he lines himself up, roughly pushing up the hem of Draco’s robes to keep them out of his way. He can’t believe this is actually happening. 

He nearly comes as he slides into Draco, the tight heat so overwhelming that he has to close his eyes and concentrate on not ending everything here and now. He breathes, slowly, evenly, trying to tamp down the blaze of pleasure threatening to overtake him. 

‘ _Move_ , Potter.’

Draco breaks the silence and stillness first, accompanying his words with a wiggle of his hips that sends sparks of pleasure shooting up Harry’s spine. And that is enough to break any composure Harry has left. Leaning forward, pressing his chest against the long line of Draco’s back, his robes caught between the two of them, Harry grabs Draco’s hips with one hand, the other reaching up to tangle their fingers together against the wall. He thrusts, hard, their resulting moans echoing in the silence of the night, and Harry is lost. 

The world narrows to the sensation of his cock sinking into Draco again and again, the drag perfect and intoxicating and almost too much, but definitely the best thing Harry has ever felt. He’s sweating again, hot in his robes but unwilling to pause long enough to take them off, his hand snaking up under Draco’s shirt as he searches for skin. The roughness of the wall underneath his fingers and the weight of his robes on his back make the whole thing feel somehow even more illicit, which only serves to make Harry move faster, his thrusts spurred on by the string of swear words escaping Draco. 

Harry knows he can’t last for much longer, can feel his orgasm building deep in his gut but he doesn’t want to come yet, not until he knows what it feels like to have Draco come on his cock. If this never happens again, he wants to make sure he experiences every possible moment of this, wants to be able to revisit this memory again and again. Draco is writhing underneath him, pushing back to meet Harry’s every move, his hand gripping Harry’s tightly. Wanting to bring Draco over the edge with him, Harry slides his hand around, finding Draco’s cock and beginning to stroke in time with the movement of his hips. 

When Draco trembles underneath Harry and spills, hot and perfect, over his hand, Harry’s completely powerless to stop his own orgasm, the pleasure so intense that his knees nearly buckle underneath him. With a groan he drops his head to rest on Draco’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath as aftershocks of bliss race through him. For a long moment Harry can’t do anything but stand there, legs shaking, heart pounding. It’s only when he softens and slips out of Draco that he finally comes back down to Earth. Draco shifts underneath Harry, making him realise that it can’t be comfortable, being pressed up against the brick wall like that. 

Harry doesn’t want to move, unwilling to put any space between them. He wants to stay right here, Draco’s back hot against his chest, forever. If he moves, then it’s over, and he doesn’t think he can bear that, now he knows what it feels like to be inside Draco. He can’t stop himself dropping the lightest of kisses on the exposed nape of Draco’s neck before he moves away, busying himself with righting his robes to avoid having to see the look on Draco’s face. He doesn’t quite know what he’ll see if he looks at Draco, and he’s scared to find out. 

‘Harry.’ At Draco’s voice Harry finally looks up, his stomach flipping over with nerves. 

‘Yes?’ Harry asks, relieved when his voice sounds normal.

‘We better get back to the office. They’ll be waiting for our report.’ 

‘Right, yes, we should,’ Harry says, waiting for the let down, for Draco to say that this was a mistake and that they shouldn’t do it again. 

‘And then,’ Draco adds, a small smile spreading across his face. ‘Maybe we could go for a drink? To celebrate the raid, you know?’ 

‘Sure,’ Harry says, answering Draco’s smile with a grin of his own. 

As they prepare to head back to the office, hope swells in Harry’s chest, and the last thing he sees before he disappears into thin air is Draco, looking right at him, smile still firmly in place.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the brilliant Keyflight790 for being a wonderful beta as always ❤
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr: [MalenkayaCherepakha](https://malenkayacherepakha.tumblr.com/)


End file.
